Chapter 29 #3
"I'm being cautious about developing feelings for someone when I'm still technically married to someone else."
"Being cautious is smart," Robin said, though her expression showed she was enjoying watching me navigate attraction that had nothing to do with loneliness and everything to do with connection.
"But being so cautious that you miss good opportunities is just fear disguised as wisdom."
Amy leaned forward suddenly serious. "What are you afraid of? That he'll lose interest once the excitement of dating a famous woman wears off?"
She'd identified exactly what I'd been trying not to think about.
Emilio was successful and cultured and probably accustomed to women who didn't come with ongoing legal proceedings and twenty-three years of emotional baggage.
He lived in Florence, owned properties across Europe, and could date sophisticated Italian women who spoke his language literally and figuratively.
"I'm afraid I'm not ready," I said honestly.
"I'm afraid I'm rebounding from Brett instead of connecting with someone new.
I'm afraid Emilio sees some idealized version of me from the magazine article instead of the actual woman who's still figuring out who she is when she's not managing other people's lives. "
"And I'm afraid he lives in Italy," I continued, voicing the concern that had been keeping me awake at night.
"What happens when he goes back to Florence for months and I'm still here, processing my divorce and building my new life?
How do you have a relationship with someone whose real life is on another continent? "
"Those are all reasonable fears," Amy said gently. "But they're also reasons to take things slowly, not reasons to avoid something that might be wonderful."
We talked about timing and readiness and whether it was possible to fall in love again before you'd finished grieving what you'd lost. About the difference between rebounding and recognizing someone who appreciated what you had to offer.
About trusting your instincts when your instincts had been undermined for years.
"Speaking of taking things slowly," Amy said, her tone shifting to something more serious, "Richard and I decided to try marriage counseling. Our first session is on Monday."
"That's huge," I said, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. "How are you feeling about it?"
"Terrified. Hopeful. Realistic about the fact that counseling only works if both people are willing to change, and I'm not sure Richard understands that he needs to change anything."
Robin nodded with the understanding of someone who'd watched her own marriage die slowly and knew how difficult it was to resurrect something that had been neglected too long.
"Just remember," I said, thinking about my own attempts to save something that had been over longer than I'd wanted to admit, "counseling can help you clarify what you want from your marriage, even if what you want turns out to be an exit strategy rather than reconciliation."
"Love yourself first," I continued, and I meant it. "Regardless of how the counseling goes, regardless of what Richard chooses to do or change, make sure you're choosing what makes you happy instead of what everyone expects you to accept."
Amy nodded like this made sense, though I could see uncertainty in her expression that implied she was still hoping Richard would transform into someone capable of making her feel valued instead of tolerated.
"There's one more thing," I said, pulling our conversation back to safer territory that didn't require analyzing anyone's marriage prospects.
"I'm thinking about renting an apartment somewhere.
Just for weekends, while I'm waiting for the divorce to be finalized.
Somewhere by the water where I can think clearly without being reminded of Brett every time I walk through my own house. "
"That's brilliant," Robin said immediately. "Where are you considering?"
I'd been researching coastal towns online, looking for places that offered both beauty and anonymity. Somewhere I could disappear into my own thoughts without constantly managing reactions to my public story or my husband's professional destruction.
"Maybe the Cape, or Rhode Island. Somewhere I can rent a small place near the beach, where I can walk and think and write without anyone knowing who I am or caring about my personal drama."
"Newport has some beautiful rental properties," Amy suggested. "Great restaurants, interesting people, close enough to drive to but far enough away that you won't run into anyone from our social circle."
"Mystic is lovely too," Robin added. "More low-key than Newport, better for someone who wants to blend in rather than stand out."
We spent another hour brainstorming locations and logistics, planning weekend escapes that would help me process everything that had happened while building toward whatever came next.
The conversation felt hopeful in ways that had nothing to do with fixing what was broken and everything to do with creating something entirely new.